Kreia's Fall
by DukeofEminence
Summary: Meetra Surik (aka the Exile from KotOR II) wonders if she can trust Kreia and seeks to know more of the mysterious old woman's past. One-off write up inspired by the KotOR games and canonical female version of the Exile. Takes place after leaving Telos.


Kreia's Fall

There are dark places in the galaxy where few tread. Ancient centers of learning, of knowledge…

But I did not walk alone. To be united by hatred is a fragile alliance, at best.

But my will was not law. There were disagreements, ambition. And hunger for power.

There are techniques within the Force against which there is no defense.

I was cast down. Stripped of my power. Exiled.

I suffered…indignities. And fell into darkness.

Meetra felt the thrum of the _Ebon Hawk_ as it jettisoned into lightspeed. The light humming was soothing to her, as it always had been on any small freighter she had been inside. The first time she had been aboard the _Hawk_ after escaping the Peragus mining facility had not allowed a long enough period to sit back and take it in. Sith and assassin droids had been actively hunting them—still were, in fact—but since her initial awakening on the sabotaged station several days prior, she could now and truly relax.

The journey to Dantooine would take nearly a full standard day, of which she was secretly thankful for, as she could use a full dozen hours of sleep or more currently. The ship would be in good hands in her absence. T3-M4 was a workaholic, immediately delving into the still numerous clean-up tasks and wiring jobs that needed to be done. Bao-Dur had taken up the job of remodeling the _Hawk's_ workstation. Atris' handmaiden, who simply wished to be called "Handmaiden" was a mystery she could explore later. Meetra had asked T3 to pay close attention to her. Atton never seemed to sleep, which made him a great pilot, and Kreia was…well, she never slept either.

Meetra knew this specific fact through the information that their Force Bond provided. The woman's mind was always awake, always pondering, and probably always scheming in some secretive manner. Meetra did partially share in Atton's distrust of her, but the relationship that Kreia had with Meetra and the scoundrel was as black and white as the two moons of Jesak.

As Meetra sat alone in the main hub of the _Ebon_ _Hawk_, where the holo-terminal illuminated the dim room in a light blue-green hue, she began sifting through the day's events in her head. There was still so much that didn't make sense to her, and she became weary at the thought of such questions lingering in her mind, keeping her from the sleep she so badly desired, and at this point, _required_.

She sipped from a canteen cup that she had filled with the freshwater reserves that Atris' handmaidens had provided them. A plate of red Felucian rice and various green vegetables also sat in her lap. Chief among the many questions that Meetra had was in relation to who Kreia was. The old woman had immediately taken to her as a teacher, with no strings attached. She fought alongside her—far more adeptly than a woman of her apparent years should, even with Jedi training—and gave her advice and criticisms in doses heavy enough to drug a herd of banthas into a coma.

Yet still she knew so little of the woman.

This was something that needed to be answered before Meetra could lay down. Meetra hoped she could at least piece together scraps of clues she was given and form some sort of personal connection to the woman that existed beyond their mysteriously strong bond.

And so she finished her meal and walked into the woman's small room in the crew's quarters.

"You've come with questions," Kreia asked as soon as the exile laid eyes on her.

Kriea, like all other times, was sitting in her meditative pose on the floor in front of her bed.

Meetra had quickly become used to the blunt statements that Kreia used as conversation starters, and so didn't skip a beat.

"I have," Meetra said. "Before I can hope to get any sleep, I need to know more about you."

"I can't say I'm flattered," the old woman said with an evenness that portrayed neither seriousness nor sarcasm.

This caught the Exile off-guard, and she found herself stammering. She had always found this frustrating when commanding, and yet here she was, doing it herself at the behest of a woman who hadn't even spared her a glance since she walked in the room.

"Ask," Kreia said, finally looking up from her sitting position.

Meetra supposed the most direct approach would be the only one capable of getting the information she wanted. "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"

"Does it matter?" Kriea answered immediately, and paused. Meetra gave her a sideways look before she continued. "Of course it does. Such titles allow you to break the galaxy down into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, merely one who sees both for what they are, pieces of a whole."

She stood. "Know that I am your teacher, and that is enough."

Meetra shifted and turned slightly. She took in the still barren walls, showing just enough of her back to entice somebody wanting to take a hit at her while allowing enough peripheral vision to react safely. Meetra had done this many times with her subordinates, both in the Republic, the Jedi Order, and in her days spent as a personal security specialist. She never attempted this with an individual she thought might actually make a move on her, rather using it as a way to pick up bodily signs—to read people. It didn't offer anything to her here. Kreia remained stoic, as if quietly mocking her attempt.

"Why should I have you aboard as a member of my crew if I know almost nothing about you?" Meetra asked. "It's clear you have a history, whether it is with the Sith or Jedi, and I believe that is an important piece of information to be aware of before I can trust you, much less have you train me."

Now Kreia removed the hood of her brown robe from her head, revealing her foggy, blind eyes. As she continued to speak, she moved subtly closer.

"What is it you wish to hear? That I once believed in the code of the Jedi? That I felt the call of the Sith? That, perhaps once, I held the galaxy by its throat? That for every good work I did, I brought equal harm upon the galaxy? That, perhaps, what the greatest of Sith Lords knew of evil, they learned from me? And why would it matter now? There is only so much comfort found in such things, and it is not who I am now."

By the end of her dodgy exposition, Kreia left less than a foot's distance between them. Meetra remained physically unmoving, refusing to give an inch.

"I need to know. That, or there is no place for you here." Meetra realized that her last words came out harsher than she intended, and softened, feeling the ache in her eyes to simply close and let go. She sighed. "I am not asking for everything there is to know about you, just the briefest overview."

Kreia broke the silence with a wave of her handless left arm to the floor. "Sit. You are amongst the strongest-willed Jedi I have ever met. That is saying much, since many of them were quite dogmatic in their flawed teachings."

"I am not a Jedi," Meetra said, obliging the offer. "We've already been through this, but it sounds like something we share in common. You were a Jedi, or still are one?"

Kreia scoffed as she took the spot she had been in once more and brought her hood back up. "I am no Jedi, and I am no Sith, though I served both."

Meetra's drowsiness dissipated as she sat straight. "Tell me more."

The following chunk of time was lost to her. It could have been fifteen minutes, but it just as easily could have been over an hour. Storytelling had always been a natural talent of hers, being a former librarian of Jedi lore, and she often lost herself in the past—hers or somebody else's— becoming fully engrossed in the tales she wove. Kreia purposely left out several large portions of her past to the Exile, as it would serve little purpose being told now other than to put them both at odds with each other.

That was not what she wanted, yet.

It was ironic, considering some of what she did choose to reveal. What wasn't surprising to the Exile was how she had once been Chief Librarian of the Coruscanti Temple, nor her decision to follow Revan into the Mandalorian Wars, as she had. No, what had been the greatest revelation was the fact that Kreia had once been an adherent of the Sith Empire that Revan and Malak had created in the aftermath of the Mandalorian conflict. Yet not even this registered an emotional response on the level that she thought it would evoke. It was not Kreia's fall to the dark that buffeted Meetra so, it was the collapse of all she had put into the Republic nearly a decade ago.

Kreia could see in her face just how surprised the Exile was. In her mind, she pondered how so many of her former comrades had fallen, not in battle, but in allegiance. There was no way for any individual as well travelled as her would not have heard about the Jedi Civil War that occurred several short years later, but it was obvious that she had avoided the hard to hear facts. For the first time, here and now, the exiled Jedi was emotionally digesting what she already knew.

Not even Kreia, with her bond to the Exile so strong, could fathom exactly what she was experiencing now.

Kreia was content with letting her emotions run rampant within her. Through it all, she didn't speak or comment, only listened. The exile had heard about Revan, as the entire galaxy had; how he had been brought back to the light and was once again crowned as the savior of the galaxy. Kreia told her about the Star Forge, which she hadn't known of—but then again, most people in the galaxy hadn't either.

Following their defeat at the Star Forge, the Sith's numbers began declining and with no strong leader to guide them, they became shadowy assassins and zealous acolytes rather than the bloodthirsty and rampaging warriors that the stories, most of which were accurate, told.

This lead into the most recent years, a time when the Republic was bankrupted from the plethora of wars. The Jedi were not left in much better shape. Their numbers had similarly dwindled as the Sith's, but for far more devious reasons. The galaxy had become fed up with Force users, and bounties on Jedi had been posted by many across the galaxy. It got to the point where the Exchange itself had posted a general fee for any and all Jedi. Several Sith had even been captured, as the crime lords cared little for the religious differences of the two sides. To them, they were all Jedi, and all Jedi needed to be put down.

In addition, the remaining Sith relentlessly hunted down the Jedi, with the only reward being temporarily sating their vengeful desires and the power they gained from it. Kreia had overseen these years as one of those Sith, as she told the Exile. She told of how the Sith eventually betrayed her, stripped her rank, title, and power, and left her for dead.

What she failed to mention was how she had been the head of the largest remaining coalition of organized Sith before her own exile. She left out that she trained many of the most powerful current Sith that now hunted them. It was a withheld truth that would suffice in its revelation at a later time.

Regardless, it didn't keep her from reliving those times in full detail once the Exile had left her presence. She bore the physical and mental scars still, and would for the remainder of her time alive.

Arren Kae woke up panting. Darkness enveloped her in the room. It wasn't the darkness she feared though. Tossing the damp sheets from her legs, Arren rose up, dressed herself and left her quarters.

The hallway was dark as well, but they were given a red hue by lanterns and the occasional flare of lightning through the many long windows. Arren spared not a single look towards anything, her mind entirely focused on and seeing through the Force. The disturbance she had felt stemmed from something within this temple. There was murderous intent practically seeping through the walls, and it took every ounce of her composure not to break out in a dead run.

Arren had not achieved this level of power out of being fearful, though—no, it was by taking it for herself. She calmed her mind and slowed her racing heart as she descended a winding corridor that opened into a cave tunnel. Torches burned every couple feet, lighting up the uneven ground.

Soon, the tunnel opened out into a large open cavern with several narrow walkways, all leading to a central alter that pulsated a deep red at its core. As Arren walked, green mist swirled at her feet as it wafted up from the depths below the stone path she strode.

Trayus Core permeated darkness like no other place she had ever been. It was as if all the pain and death that the planet had been witness to was rising up from the abyss beneath her where the planet's shattered core resided.

The central platform was flanked on all sides by large talon-like pillars that Arren walked past to reach the pulsing center of the core. As she stepped onto it and settled into meditation, dark red mists enveloped her sitting form, filling her with thick streams of power and focus. It was here that Arren had completely fallen, and it was here that she felt the power of the Force run most easily though her.

Searching through the Force, she scoured the entire Temple. Soon, she found the two individuals she had been looking for.

Her top students, whom she had named as Lords of the Sith: Darth Sion, and Darth Nihilus.

Ambitious they always were. She had known this day would come. As a Jedi historian, she knew well the workings of the dark side. It fed on others, but first and foremost, on itself. The very nature of the dark side was built out of conflict and strife, and so the Sith that served it would be enslaved to endless conflict. To be united by hatred is a…fragile alliance, at best.

Arren had hoped to break that cycle, but her students had forced her hand. They would no longer be a part of the endgame that she had in mind—one that would restore her former student's, Revan's, empire to a strength never before seen.

Sion and Nihilus approached the center platform from the two opposite lanes she had come from, and paused outside the perimeter of her blood-red meditation mists.

"We have come, Master. We have come to end your heresies and half-measures."

That had come from Sion. The horribly mutilated corpse of a man had once been a cunning student of hers, but recent years had seen him fall heavily from the prodigy he had been. However, he was of secondary concern compared to the other who stood with him against her.

Nihilus was…gone now. Whatever manhood he had still possessed several months ago was entirely gone. The being that was known as Nihilus whispered through the Force in its unknown dialect. Telepathically, she understood that all it wanted was her life essence. To feed.

As unnerving as it was, she centered herself once more, and breathed deep.

"You have nowhere to hide, Traya. Even if you escape us, the entire academy has turned its back on you. They will—"

Arren Kae burst forth from the thick tendrils of smoke and slashed at Sion. The one-eyed man had been caught off guard, and barely brought his crimson blade up to meet hers. However, Arren was able to disengage the blade quickly and thrust it down to sever the man's right leg at the knee. With a grunt he fell, and Arren blasted him with a wave of energy to send him sliding hard into one of the pillars.

The dark-robed Nihilus had his white mask on, and all who were in his presence would have been grateful for that, as his face had become increasingly distorted and lifeless recently. This wasn't a worry that one in mortal combat thought anything of, and Arren brought the full measure of her power down on him, seeking to crush him under heavy pressure. It brought him to his knees, but he rose after a short struggle.

Arren knew that she couldn't hold him long enough to summon the energy needed for her sorcery, and was about to unleash a blast of devastating lightning his way when she felt her breath catch.

She ducked, saving her from being bisected by the sweep of a red lightsaber—Sion's of course. The grey cracked skin of the man looked as if it was about to shatter with every movement, but it held together. The leg that she had cut through had returned, though it was bare of clothing at the point where she had cut. Black Sith sorcery spun around him and engulfed his entire right leg, healing and restoring him.

Arren had known that conventional methods would not defeat her two students, and had prepared for it, but she had hoped that taking out Sion would leave her to deal with Nihilus for at least thirty seconds, yet he had recovered and was attacking her only a dozen seconds later.

He was quicker to heal now than she had realized. The two fought blade to blade for several seconds before she felt her feet lift from the ground and she was swung hard into one of the pillars near her meditation spot. She was held off the ground against the wall, feeling consciousness leave her as Nihilus' hand was reaching out. She wasn't going to make it easy for them.

Arren made a gesture with both of her hands and rasped out three words.

"_Auchai eelse'im…caomek_."

Where her hands clasped, reality distorted, and it grew quickly as she flung it at Nihilus. The boulder-sized ball of distorted energy hit him in the chest, and he screamed in agony. It was as if a chorus of banshees screeched as both Arren and Sion clasped their ears.

The pitch quickly lessened to a point that Arren could function and she breathed a quiet phrase as she pulled her weapon back to her and leapt high into the air. While in mid-air, she flung her saber at the recovering Sion, which was only a distraction so that he didn't notice her own version of orange Sith sorcery wrap around him. He balked as they wrapped around his head and torso, dragging him down and slowly disintegrating his body.

Arren landed in front of Nihilus. Unfortunately, she couldn't focus on finishing Sion, as it would be much quicker, because Nihilus would likely be able to assist his ally before she could dispose of him.

Both hands outstretched above the rising Nihilus, she shouted another sorcerous chant. "_Viro'ichta coi vaar'sim!_"

White light formed at her fingertips, and she brought both hands down on Nihilus' mask. He shook violently, but his will to survive was as strong as Sion's, and he took both of her hands in his own. Suddenly, she felt herself aging years in what was only seconds.

Arren Kae refused to back down, continuing her spell even as she withered, hard creases forming on her face, her skin beginning to sag. Arren would never know who would have been the victor in the struggle, as Sion had broken free of her sorcery as she had engaged Nihilus.

From behind, Sion picked up her now frail body by the robes and lifted her high above his head, slamming her face down onto the unforgiving stone.

At this point, Arren could no longer move or defend herself. She was entirely defenseless and at her student's mercy.

Sion grunted above her. She couldn't see his face, but she felt his raw fury.

He picked her up again by the collar, dragging her to the center and flung her into a curving pillar. Her face cracked against it, busting her left cheekbone and loosening several teeth. Sion moved to her once more, picking her up to face him.

"Pathetic wretch," he spat, jamming his broken fingernails into the side of her neck. "Nihilus hoped to catch you in your sleep, but I knew you would be here when we found you. I enjoy it better this way."

He smiled, revealing over two thirds of his teeth missing, and any remaining ones unnaturally slanted or broken. He preceded to beat her: several bone shattering knuckles to the face, a swift knee to her gut, and a sharp elbow to the back of her head, which sent her crumpling to the floor without a sound.

Nihilus appeared behind the two, walking over to their fallen Master. A low rumble emanated down to her.

"Finish her, but remember: keep her alive. She doesn't deserve to die this quickly. Let the broken surface of Malachor consume her."

Nihilus hissed aggressively.

Reaching out, he plucked Arren Kae's broken and aged body from the ground and held it floating before them. Then, he reached out and took even more from her. More than her youth, more than her power. He took everything, defiling her in ways that those unfamiliar with the touch of the Force could ever hope to understand.


End file.
